


It’s Only Castles Burning

by webcricket



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Godstiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10611270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/webcricket/pseuds/webcricket
Summary: Established CastielXReader. Powered up with the souls of purgatory, Castiel forsakes his friends, exacts punishment upon his foes in Heaven, and begins to do God’s work on Earth. Feared by everyone he encounters, he seeks out the only person who ever seemed to truly understand his motives as hitchhiker leviathans progressively overpower his will and corrupt his vessel from within. Contains NSFW/18+/adult content – specifically, oral (male receiving), pinned spooning, and mentions of cowgirl/denied orgasm. Italicized quotes are direct excerpts from SPN episode 7X01 Meet the New Boss and 7X02 Hello, Cruel World and are not mine – fic is set during the time period of these episodes with canonically dark themes and descriptions of physical violence consistent with Cas’ character arc and the leviathans. All things considered, I think I managed to keep it a tiny bit fluffy (you know, considering what happens in 7X02).





	

Scanning the pallid faces of the Winchesters and Bobby Singer, Castiel perceived only fear. These humans he once called friends did not love him, did not respect him.

_“Stop, what’s the point if you don’t mean it. You fear me, not love, not respect, just fear.”_

Castiel won – victor in the battle for Heaven and Earth against Raphael. In affront to the misgivings of his so-called friends, he also managed to out-maneuver the King of Hell at his own manipulative game. Castiel deserved this power – this glory, and they had the audacity to deny it to him. The betrayal disappointed him, but the frustration of utter terror radiating from their souls rather than awe of his newfound authority infuriated the seraph turned God. However, Castiel was a just and merciful God, and although disloyalty demands justice, these men were one-time allies - flawed men deserving of mercy.

_“Be thankful for my mercy.”_

Despite their indiscretions, he spared their lives with a warning he knew they were not likely to heed.

_“I hope for your sake this is the last time you see me.”_

“Bobby, slow down,” woozy from a precipitous rush of adrenaline, you sat on the edge of the musty motel bed, worn springs creaking in recoil.

“That idjit opened purgatory and drank every last soul. Now he’s juiced up and calling himself the new God,” Bobby’s exasperated voice exclaimed over the tinny speaker of the phone held in your wobbly hands.

You absorbed the news, the beginnings of a relieved grin sprawling across your features. Cas told you of his plan, and you supported him however you could, even splitting alliances with the brothers and the old hunter on account of your romantic involvement with the angel. Sure, you had doubts about him acting behind the backs of Sam and Dean, but this was about the greater good, and the brothers were a stubborn lot - leaving out certain details saved valuable time, and stopping the next apocalypse was infinitely more important than the Winchesters’ hurt feelings. Amorously skewed loyalties aside, Cas presented the best game plan and you backed him.

“You hearing me, girl?” Bobby’s tone rose an octave, snapping your awareness to the present.

“Yeah, got it, new God. What about Raphael?” You queried - after all, eliminating the archangel was the whole point of the crazy endeavor. If he was still out there, inciting the angels to rise against humanity, the danger hadn’t yet passed.

“Bloody writing on the wall,” the old hunter grumbled.

“And Crowley?” You wondered, already gathering Cas must have duped Crowley too. You’d anticipated the scheming king double crossing him, reminding the angel he had a tendency to be too trusting and that the former crossroad’s demon always had a loophole when it came to power grabs.

“In the wind,” Bobby answered.

“Damnit Bobby, he did it! I knew he would!” You didn’t attempt to mask the unleashing of joy - you were proud of your angel. Silence answered your triumphant exclamation and celebratory squeals. Rolling your eyes derisively, you muttered into the phone, “Bobby, look. I know you and those boys don’t agree with the method, but what’s the problem? All’s well that ends-”

“Y/N, he’s got to be stopped. You didn’t see him, it’s not Cas anymore,” Dean’s gruff voice interrupted.

“Dean,” you spoke his name through gritted teeth. “Stopped?” You instantly realized where Dean was going with this - he intended to use you to get to the angel, “So you’re calling me ‘cause you think I’m the chink in his armor, right?”

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but yeah, if the shoe fits,” Dean replied. “He might let his guard down with you, even now. I know how you feel about him Y/N, but-”

“What do you expect me to do Dean, bat my lashes, say come hither, and stab him in the heart with an angel blade?” You spat, vitriolic.

“Sam already tried it. Didn’t work,” Dean stated flatly, without remorse.

Bristling with fury at his nonchalance, you jumped to your feet, stomping across the dank carpet, snarling into the receiver, “You tried to kill him? Castiel? Our Cas? You tried to kill him and now you’re asking for my help to do the same. After everything he’s done for us, for you. It wasn’t enough for you to refuse to support him when he needed you the most, when he begged you for your help, now you want him dead. No Dean, I can’t...I’ll never help you hurt him. I’d sooner die!”

“That may be exactly what happens the next time you see him, sweetheart.”

“He left you alive after you tried to kill him. Makes him a better man than me,” you retorted with a snort. Dean was wrong. Castiel’s heart perpetually dwelt in the right place, why couldn’t Dean understand? You picked absent-mindedly at the peeling wallpaper beside the window, inhaling a quietening breath, intent on winning the hunter over to your opinion, “Come on Dean, it’s Cas. He’d never hurt us.”

“Wouldn’t he? Try telling that to Sam. His mind’s broken,” Dean groused. “You didn’t see him. All that power. Y/N, it changed him.”

“He’d never hurt me,” you murmured, knuckles tensed cold and white around the phone as your hand slumped to your side. You felt sorry for Sam, you sincerely did. But the angel would never harm you, he loved you – he’d told you as much before the eclipse when he tucked you safely away in this warded motel room in case he failed - in case Raphael sought vengeance or Crowley got vindictive. You knew power could change people, but Cas wasn’t people. If he was calling himself God, if he didn’t fix Sam, then he must have a very good reason. Dean was biased, judgement clouded, he would always choose his brother over everything else. Embracing free will, Cas chose you. Exercising free will, you chose Cas. You trusted the angel implicitly, reiterating under your breath, “Never.”

Dean’s defeated warning pierced the quiet, “Yeah, well I guess we’ll see about that. I suggest you lay low, stay off his radar. Find somewhere safe, ward it for all the good it will do. And Y/N, when he shows up, when you finally understand, you know where to find us.”

Lip twitching indignantly, you swiped the screen of the phone, ending the call - as if you would ever hide from the angel to whom you’d given your heart. Gaze rising to the water-stained ceiling, directing your longing heavenward, you prayed, “Castiel?”

The new God first restored order in Heaven. If the demonstration of his righteous leadership and consequences for insubordination required the sacrifice of thousands of disloyal angels, he could only view those brethren as inconsequential collateral damage in the grander scheme.

_“Be obedient children.”_

With this stern cautioning, Castiel sensed a resounding shudder of angelic trepidation. Here he was, assuming the vacant role of their father, selflessly accepting the responsibility to guide and nurture them, something they’d yearned for – and where love and fidelity should reside, there existed only a thinly veiled terror. It didn’t make sense, his brothers and sisters should be exultant, not ungrateful. Tone tempered, attempting to allay their doubts, he decreed.

_“Rejoice.”_

Three full days, a tad beyond 72 hours since Bobby’s phone call, a dozen ignored calls from Sam and Dean, and still Castiel failed to answer your litany of prayers. Dithering betwixt fitful slumber and anxious wakefulness, you tossed uncomfortably on the worn mattress, flinging off threadbare sheets, skin sticky and sheened with sweat on account of the air conditioner having broken the night before. The manager offered you a new room, but you refused to leave – this is where Cas left you, and here you would remain.

“Y/N.”

Eyes popping open, legs flailing, you scrambled backward in alarm, shoulder blades knocking on the headboard, which, being screwed into the wall, was the only thing in this Godforsaken roach nest that didn’t creak when you touched it.

Castiel lingered in shadow near the window, passively observing as you blinked the sleep from your eyes.

“Cas? Cas!” Leaping off the bed at the angel, you draped your arms about his immovable frame, peppering his mouth and jaw with relieved kisses. So overcome with elation, you didn’t notice his failure to return your affection, “I was so worried, Dean said-”

Cas’ eyes narrowed at the mention of that name, roughly grabbing you by the upper arms to peel you off his body. He wondered if he had dallied too long in his return, if Dean had already poisoned you against him.

You wriggled in protest at the loss of contact, clutching the lapels of his trench coat, imploring, “Cas, what’s wrong?”

Brow furrowed, he cocked his head almost imperceptibly to the left, austerely regarding you, eyes glinting dangerously red in the harsh light of the neon motel vacancy sign bleeding through the paper thin curtains. “Kneel,” he commanded, the subtle tensing of his stubbled jaw suggesting he expected you to refuse, to disappoint him as all the others had.

Focus locked on his dark gaze, legs weakened by awakening arousal, you did not hesitate to comply, dropping to your knees, suggestively trailing your fingertips down the front of his body as you did so. Staring up in expectant silence, your heart pounded, every beat resounding with adoration and love. Dean was wrong. Cas stood before you, your Cas, peering at you through those same expressive sapphire eyes – not a single facet of color shined upon you with malice. You held no fear in your heart of the angel.

The lines of his face softening incrementally, he reached out. Extending long fingers to brush your cheek - he felt no recoil from his touch, recognized no anxiety in your features, and distinguished only devotion toward him dwelling within your soul. He would never tell you he intentionally avoided you these past few days, unaware himself that he was petrified of your potential reaction, of seeing the same fear he saw in Sam and Dean and Bobby and his own kin mirrored on your face – knowing your rejection would kill the only part of him that mattered, the part capable of love. A pleased smile impressed upon his mouth at your open acceptance of his authority.

“Cas,” shutting your eyes, you exhaled his name, leaning into his caress, “I missed you so much.”

“I know,” he tenderly traced the bowed edges of your lips, “but there was and is much work for me to do.” The calloused pad of his thumb parted your pink lips, “Still, I think you’ve been patient enough, my love.”

Your heart fluttered at the term of endearment, eyes flickering open to search his lust-darkened pupils, a flood of heat gushing in your center at the domineering way he gazed down upon you. You swallowed a whimper, fingers kneading his thickly muscular thighs, “Would you like to know exactly how much I missed you?”

A low growl erupted from his chest as he tangled his fingers in your hair, bending to crush your mouth with a needy kiss – lips rough and insistent, sucking and bruising your own, tongue invading to devour your taste.

Blindly fumbling with his belt buckle, you grazed his already hardening length.

He emancipated your mouth with a groan, tightening his grip on your hair, snaking an arm around your waist to haul you to your feet, teeth ravishing and marking the delicate sweat-salted skin of your collarbone, claiming you as his own.

You stifled a squeal at the pleasurable sting of his bites, palming and squeezing his clothed arousal in retaliation, nipping at his earlobe, whispering, “Castiel, let me worship you.”

He angled away from you, freeing his fingers from your hair, a gratified smile curving the corner of his mouth and conveying approval at your choice of words. Nodding once, he assented to a demonstration of your veneration.

Sauntering around the angel with a simper, you tugged at the collars of his trench coat and suit jacket, stripping him simultaneously of the burdensome garments. Pressing your heated body to his broad back, hands delving beneath his arms to travel the landscape of his chest, you loosened and yanked free his tie, unfastening buttons as your fingers happened upon them in their wanderings, nails raking the exposed planes of flesh.

His muscles went rigid in anticipation beneath your touch.

Yanking off his shirt, laving his shoulders in a meandering line of wet open mouthed kisses, your hands journeyed ever lower – unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers, you slid them and his boxers to his ankles, liberating his straining cock.

He groaned, peering back at you, kicking off his boots and the puddled fabric around his feet, compelling you with hooded eyes to continue.

Grasping the base of his cock, you stepped around the angel, stroking him excruciatingly slow, standing up on tip-toes to nibble the prickly angle of his jaw, biting and drawing his lower lip through your teeth. Twisting your wrist, spurring a swell of knee-wobbling pleasure to course through him, you flaunted a sultry smirk, “Do you have any idea how much I adore this perfect vessel of yours Castiel? This temple?”

“Show me,” he growled, hardening in your grip.

You knelt before him, not needing to be commanded, licking and wetting your lips as you admired his perfect cock. Maintaining eye contact, you dragged your tongue over his slit, spreading the beaded pre-cum around the smooth tip with a widening swirling motion.

Blue eyes snapping forcefully closed, he raggedly panted your name mingled with praising words of Enochian.

Diverting your attention lower, you fondled his balls, massaging with increasing pressure the hypersensitive patch of skin behind them. Steadying his strained lurch forward with a palm flattened to his thigh, you licked a broad glistening stripe up the fleshy ridged underside of his cock, stroking him vigorously with clamped fingers in the wake of your tongue, kissing his purple engorged tip dotingly. Blowing puffs of cooling air teasingly across his saliva coated tip, you glanced up innocently for the pure indulgence of beholding his wanton reaction.

His fingers flew to snarl in your hair, blackened pupils fixed upon you, countenance wrecked, growling through clenched teeth, “Continue.”

You grinned, amused at his persistent illusion of control, content in the knowledge he was all yours in this moment to do with as you pleased. Flicking your tongue across his tip, provoking a series of small needy groans from his throat, you wrapped your lips around him, cheeks hollow and suckling as you sank him further into the inviting warmth and wetness.

He involuntarily bucked deeper into your throat, head dipping back with a rumbling growl, fingers twisting locks of hair as he fought the urge to impatiently pound into your gullet and take what he needed.

Bobbing up and down his cock in a steady rhythm, fingers enclosed around his shaft to stroke what you could not comfortably take into your throat, you alternated the sucking pressure of your lips around his girth and feather-light scrapes of your teeth with the twirling caress of your tongue at his sensitive tip. Feeling his cock swell and jerk against your tongue, you hummed - the vibration overwhelming the angel.

Muscles rippling involuntarily, abdomen tensing concave at the climax of blissful surrender, fingers scrabbling at your scalp, he cried out your name.

Moaning around his cock, you drank the hot spurts of his release. Shaking subsiding, you slid his softening length from your mouth with a sated sigh, clambering up his still unsteady naked frame, you cupped his cheeks and scattered his face with dainty kisses.

Winding his arms about your waist, hugging you closer, accosting your mouth with a passionate kiss, he closed his eyes, groaning at the taste of himself on your tongue, intoxicated by your absolute reverence. Desiring to reward your piety, he banished your clothing with a thought and scooped you into his arms.

Giggling, you bounced when he tossed you on the squeakily protesting mattress. Squirming to the middle of the bed, you skimmed a finger through the drenched folds of your sex, beckoning him closer with the arousal glossed digit, “My God Cas, I’m so wet for you.”

Crawling to hover over you, bending your knees together to the side, cock again rigid and prodding your ass, he growled, “What did you say?”

You smirked knowingly, goading his lust, “My…God.”

Planting an arm firmly behind your uppermost knee and the other at your waist, caging you in, limiting the potential for your movement, he nudged his cock at your sodden entrance, breath hotly ghosting over your neck, “Say it again.”

“M-my,” you moaned as sank into you with a single powerful thrust, “God!”

He bit his teeth into your shoulder, nearly hard enough to draw blood, the contrasting tingle of pain serving only to heighten your pleasure. Withdrawing completely and plunging deeper than before, stretching you with a singe of white hot ecstasy, he growled, “Again.”

“Oh God,” you keened, fingers digging into his biceps, desperate for purchase as he relentlessly drove into you, “Cas-Castiel!” Whimpering, unable to move within the secure restraint of his arms, you arched your back as sparks of pleasure ignited in your core under the merciless thrust of his hips setting your whole body aquiver. Salacious moans, fervent grunts, the weary creak of the old bed, and the sinfully lewd sound of skin slapping skin intensified the steamy atmosphere of the room.

“Touch yourself,” he ordered, breaking breathlessly from your lips to lavish your breast with his tongue.

Every nerve ending aflame, you obeyed, slipping quivering fingers between slickened thighs to rub circles over your engorged clit, gasping, “Cas, I’m so close.”

“Then come for me Y/N,” he snarled in your ear, altering the angle of his hips to directly strike your sweet spot.

“Oh, God!” You screamed, body engulfed in a blazing release of bliss, nails clawing into the muscles of his arms, pussy convulsing around his thick cock.

Hips faltering, he tensed and juddered, head burrowing into your neck with a groan, cock twitching to fill you with warmth. Collapsing on you, your bodies shook together for some time with small aftershocks of pleasure as he tenderly kissed your swollen lips. Rolling to cuddle you from behind, cock slipping from your center, combined releases leaking hotly down your thigh, he anchored your spent figure snug to his heaving chest. Affectionately nuzzling your sweat soaked hair, he realized he had been wrong to ever doubt your love for the simple fact you were the one human in all of creation who never doubted him.

Hypocrites, bigots, motivational speakers – no one was immune to cleansing under the reign of Castiel. Mitigated by your love, he worked in equal shares of miracles too - healing the infirmed and afflicted, restoring sight to the blind, feeding the famished. As he exercised his seemingly boundless power, something wicked began to stir in the darkest recesses of his vessel, attracted instinctively to surface by the scent of fear which seemed to surround the angel wherever he journeyed. Castiel first heard their voices and felt their dreadful burden in a church after smiting an irreverent reverend.

_“Castiel? Cas.”_

Castiel paid no more head to their cries than he would the buzz of a fly - yet some part of him acknowledged the very same fly as a harbinger of ill. That evening, when he returned to share your bed and indulge in the carnal pleasures of your company as he had done every night since your demonstration of faith, he seemed different – distant, hesitating to meet your questioning eyes, unwilling to boast about the day’s accomplishments, flinching under your loving touch. Bodies tangled together in the dark, mind spiraling from the sensory overload of intense orgasm, serenely combing your fingers through his soft dark curls, you had no way to know it was the beginning of the end.

The rebelling darkness Castiel harbored nourished and strengthened itself on the unacknowledged fear within himself triggered by fracturing control, finally cracking the surface of his vessel after a confrontation with Crowley wherein he dictated in no uncertain terms the demon’s newly perfunctory role in Hell as a figurehead king answering to God. Disconcerted by the minor outward lesion on his vessel, but nonetheless emboldened with power, Castiel discounted their scraping merely as a passing itch – there would be time to deal with them later, when the work was done. That night, deeply undulating your hips against the angel as you rode his cock, mewling, pussy throbbing and close to orgasm, his fingers dug into your ass, abruptly shoving you from his body. He rolled from the bed, staggering into the bathroom.

“Fraud. Charlatan!” The voices screamed ominously inside him, “Too weak. _Mistake. Let us out._ ”

Cas buckled over the counter with a pained groan, blinking into the hazy mirror, running cool water to splash his perspiration beaded skin.

Dazed at the precipice of release, you crept to the edge of the mattress, calling out shakily after him, “Cas, what’s wrong?”

Scrutinizing the newly deteriorating flesh of his vessel’s cheeks in the mirror, he lied, “Nothing. Just-just stay in bed. I’ll be back in a minute.”

_“Let us out!”_ The voices insisted, stretching and clawing out from his abdomen.

_“No.”_ Cas growled under his breath.

Easing out of bed, unconvinced and alarmed by his strange affect, you padded softly barefoot toward the open bathroom door. Crossing the threshold, you found the room empty, clear cold water overflowing the sink to splash the tiled floor, “Cas?!”

The meddling Winchesters, as expected, were unable to leave well enough alone – unwilling to acquiesce to a simple request in exchange for their mercifully permitted existence, ever ready to forfeit their lives to save the world from what was it this time - order? Peace? God’s love? Stupid little ants, Cas sneered even as his vessel decayed before them, as control slipped from his tenuous grasp. Why couldn’t they be more like you? Love him? Or at the very least, trust him?

_“You look awfully like a mutated angel to me. Your vessel’s melting. You’re going to explode. You think you’re simply under the weight of all those souls, yes? But that’s not the worst problem. There are things much older than souls in purgatory, and you gulped those in too.”_

Death, summoned by the hunters to kill Castiel, named the ancient evil corrupting his vessel – leviathans.

_“Irrelevant. I control them.”_

Fists clenched, muscles straining with exertion, Cas did not fear Death. Death was ancient as his father, present at the dawn of creation, and if he could control Death himself, why should he fear leviathans? No matter. The Winchesters weren’t a threat. They failed, and he had work to attend to in the form of a corrupt politician spreading lies in his good name.

“Cas!” Just as unexpectedly as he vanished days ago, the angel appeared before you now, battered, bruised, and bloody.

“Help me,” he stumbled weakly to one knee, panicked blue eyes pleading.

Tucking his arm over your shoulder, you helped him to stand, guiding him to the bathroom, leaning him against the edge of the counter. Hands trembling, you wrung a wet washcloth over the sink, wiping carefully at his face and neck and hands, towel rapidly staining crimson, droplets of red speckling the white porcelain of the basin. Rinsing the washcloth again, you swiped the blood-matted hair from his forehead, “Cas, there’s so much blood, where are you hurt?”

Pivoting, he gripped the edges of the counter, pitching forward with effort, the volume of the laughter inside of his vessel’s skull overpowering your voice.

“Cas, whose blood is this?” You stared at his haggard face in the reflection of the mirror, realizing none of his wounds could produce this much blood. Something churning maliciously behind his wearied eyes caused you to shrink away, forgotten washcloth splattering to the floor, heart seizing with fear, “Cas, please, say something. You’re frightening me.”

“I-I blacked out. I don’t know what happened,” he sobbed, vessel shaking. Collapsing into folded arms, he hid his face, unable to bear the fearful gleam in your eyes.

You stepped closer to rub his back, to comfort him, to assuage the disquiet feeling surging within yourself, “Okay, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out. Just-just tell me the last thing you remember.”

“I, they’re all dead. Innocents. Slaughtered,” he mumbled, “I only went to talk. I-” His body convulsed and went silent.

“Cas?” You squeezed his shoulder.

“Try again,” the creature that leered up at you wasn’t Castiel. The fingers that snatched at and compressed your neck, cutting off the air to your lungs, dangling your kicking feet uselessly off the ground weren’t Castiel’s. And the laughter springing from its throat as it garnered enjoyment choking the life out of you resonated of pure evil, “Or, you know, don’t.”

“Get your hands off her!” The fingers at your throat slackened.

You crumpled into a gasping heap on the cold tile floor. The last thing to register before you blacked out were the horror stricken blue eyes of your angel brimming freely with tears.

“I’m sorry Y/N. I’ve made a horrible mistake. I can’t control them. Forgive me. Please, forgive me. I-I love you…”

It was your love shrouded in fear that turned the tide for Castiel and made clear the errors in his judgement. He had determined to return the souls to purgatory the moment he saw the fear reflected in your eyes. Being alone, losing your love, it terrified him. It was in that instant of weakened resolve that the leviathans gained the upper hand. Helplessly witnessing the life ebb from your body, he wrenched control back from the ancient beasts by harnessing the raw power of his love for you to stun them into submission - a thing so purely evil is incapable of breaching such devotion. Now, clutching your unconscious body to his chest, listening to your wheezing struggle to hold onto life, he understood the profound danger. Gently laying you on your back, he rolled a towel beneath your neck. Pressing blood-stained fingers to your temple, he healed you, not with the ungodly power coursing poisonously through his vessel, but with angelic grace. Heartened by your strengthening respiration and the pink flush returning to your pale cheeks, shaky fingers brushed the shock damp hair from your brow and he placed a tender lingering kiss on your forehead.

You roused many hours later when a beam of sunlight stretched from the window to tickle your closed eyes, the familiar gravel of Cas’ voice murmuring a morning greeting in your ear. Moaning softly, you reached to the opposite side of the bed, your fingers grasping at the empty space, finding only rough sheets where the angel should be. Bolting upright, everything came flooding back. Grabbing your phone, you paced the room as it rang, “Damnit, Dean! Answer!” It went to voicemail. You tried again.

He picked up on the first ring this time, “Y/N?”

“Dean! It’s Cas, he’s in danger,” your words frantically slurred, “I don’t mean the God thing, he’s possessed or something. Whatever it is tried to kill me, but Cas stopped it. He-”

“He’s gone, Y/N. Cas is gone.”

Your stomach flipped at Dean’s words, stunned to silence as you rode a wave of nausea.

“You okay?”

“G-gone?” You didn’t understand - you heard the angel’s voice, felt his presence only moments ago.

“Last night, he showed up just in time to send those souls back to purgatory. The thing that tried to kill you - leviathans, they managed to hang on. And Cas, he couldn’t hold them back without all that extra purgatory power. They marched his vessel into a municipal water reservoir and scattered.”

“I need to see him,” you refused to believe Dean, needing to see the angel’s lifeless vessel with your own eyes as proof. It didn’t feel like Cas was gone, there was no pervading sense of emptiness in the corners of your soul where his love resided.

“There’s nothing to see Y/N, all that’s left is that stupid trench coat of his.”

Your heart soared with hope, knowing without a shadow of doubt that your angel was out there somewhere. Not gone – lost. Lost and alive. And for as long as your heart continued to beat, no one would convince you otherwise.


End file.
